


Not When I'm Sad

by that_one_kid



Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Gen, Mention of Canonical Character Death, drummer has had a rough few seasons, girl talk, in that women are talking about politics and cursing, it's avasarala who the hell is surprised, mostly cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22932949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_kid/pseuds/that_one_kid
Summary: Drummer has given up on politics. Avasarala (improbably) ends up in a Belter bar to talk her back around.
Relationships: Chrisjen Avasarala & Camina Drummer
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Not When I'm Sad

“You can’t go,” the Secretary-General of the United Nations of Earth said, straining a little to be heard over the music. 

“Fuck you,” Drummer responded equitably. She paused. “How did you find me anyway?” Avasarala raised an eyebrow and looked around the bar - there were several unconscious men piled neatly in the corner. Drummer raised her hands in a Belter shrug. “They were being disrespectful.” She gestured to the bartender, who dropped the music volume. 

“Yes,” Avasarala said, her voice thoughtful. “That’s what the young woman said when she left. She was glad you intervened.” 

“Didn’t ‘intervene’. Just don’t like bullies,” Drummer responded curtly, finishing the last of her drink. 

“I know. It’s all part of your fucking old-world charm.”

“Say what you mean.” Drummer snapped. The bartender put a fresh bulb of liquor in front of her. 

“I heard you plan to remove yourself from politics,” Avasarala said. She paused. “You know why there aren’t any smart people in politics?” Drummer eyed her cautiously. When the pause went on too long, she huffed in frustration. 

“Well, ke? Why not?” 

“Because the smartest thing to do if you work in politics is to quit.” 

“True,” Drummer paused. “You didn’t quit.” She hadn’t picked up her new drink. Avasarala was almost flattered that the young OPA lieutenant thought she might be a threat. 

“I’m intelligent, not smart. But you - you’re smart. I need you here.” 

“Why?” Drummer asked. The question sounded offhand, but her eyes were steely. 

“Because you are the only fucking person in the entire OPA that I know isn’t on some goddamn crusade!” Avasarala took a deep breath, but when she continued it was at the same volume. “You are not trying to avenge your failures, like Fred Johnson - and you are not Dawes, holding desperately onto an ideal out of the reach of logic. And you managed to work for both of them without getting them or you killed.” 

“So?”

“So I need to know that there is at least one person I trust to react in a credible manner within the OPA. The UN needs that. Medina Station needs that.” 

“And tell me, Earther, why do I care what a bunch of pashang inyalowdah want from me?” Drummer asked, letting her words slur together to emphasize both her accent and her apparent drunkenness. Avasarala let her amusement at the blatant deception show. 

“Because as far as I can tell, every job you’ve taken on has been because it needed to be done, and done right. You kept powerful men from destroying our civilization because of their oversized egos. You have saved lives.” 

“Bullshit. I’ve had two mutinies,” Drummer snapped, and her play-acted drunkenness fell away. Her words were flat and crisp, with no hint at the emotions below. “My people - beltalowdah - have try to kill me two times in two assignments. My second-in-command just got himself killed on an insane revenge mission. So tell me. What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I am here, _Camina_ , because you are the best. Because we are going to need the best, in the days to come.”

“You know something,” Drummer accused. 

“Not specifically,” Avasarala conceded. “But yes. Something big is coming. Will you come back?” Drummer handed her the bulb of alcohol, and she took a long swig. Whatever it was, it burned the whole way down.

“Hm.” Drummer said, and met her eyes. “This job gonna get me killed, one of these days.” 

“I know,” Avasarala answered. “If it makes things any better, I’m sorry about that.” 

“Ha. I don’t think you are.” Drummer took the bulb back and drained it. “Maybe it kill you first, though.” 

“May the best woman win,” Avasarala said, and left the bar. 


End file.
